The Epic Tale of Brom the Storyteller
by Eternal8
Summary: From village storyteller to warrior magician to Dragon Rider to firebrand, revolutionary leader, and assassin, Brom seems like an even greater hero than Eragon.  This is the complete story of Brom the Storyteller.
1. Chapter 1

Brom was born in the city of Kuasta, which was separated from the rest of the Broddring Kingdom by the Spine, an impressive range of mountains that ran the length of Alagaesia. Because of its isolation, Kuasta was a peculiar place, full of strange customs and superstitions. Its citizens knock on a door frame three times before leaving or entering a room, carve strange runes into their walls to keep away mischievous spirits, and once a year gather a collection of food and other materials, which they cast into the sea. In the 500th year of the House of Langfield, two illuminators, Holcomb and Nelda, begot a son and named him Brom, after Nelda's grandfather. Though Holcomb and Nelda were average artists by the standards of the time, the artisans of Kuasta were famed throughout the kingdom, and many people sent their manuscripts and decorative pieces to be illustrated and engraved, and Brom's parents received enough work to occupy large amounts of their time. Though there was always food on the table and Brom's clothes were always cleaned and stored away for him, he grew independent of the rest of his family at a very young age. By six years, he was walking through the streets himself, and by age nine, he had memorized much of the city and prided himself on his vast knowledge.

Brom also strove to keep himself healthy and fit. By eight years, he ran three miles through the gentle hills surrounding the city every other day, and after a neighbor who had served in the army mentioned that fighting could tone his entire body, he began his apprenticeship in martial arts, training with the man every day he wasn't running. The man's words soon proved to be true, and Brom threw himself into the exercises enthusiastically. Though he didn't know it at the time, the discipline and endurance he gained by running and the skills he acquired through martial training would serve him throughout his entire life.

In the second month of his ninth year, Brom was walking through the streets of Kuasta, in the southwestern quadrant. As he strode quickly through a dark alley to another, more brightly-lit street on the other side, a boy stepped out of the shadows, a blade flashing in his hand. Quick reflexes saved Brom from injury. He twisted and fell back, narrowly avoiding the knife. Brom quickly rolled to his feet and analyzed the situation. The boy who had tried to cut him was only a few years older than Brom, maybe twelve. From behind him, two other boys appeared, a little younger than the first. A quick glance behind him confirmed Brom's suspicions that he was indeed surrounded; two more boys stood blocking the way he had come. Brom studied their faces and recognized them from one of Kuasta's two gangs. The two gangs fought each other viscously over control of the city, though neither truly could affect the real governing of the city, for if they challenged the rulers of the city openly, a Dragon Rider would be summoned and the rebellion would be crushed in an instant. However, the two gangs fought for their turf, where they could cut purses and cut throats without interference or competition. Deaths were uncommon, or else the leaders of the city would never allow the organizations to remain for long. However, the gangs were still very dangerous.

"What do you want from me?" asked Brom of the boy with the knife. He slid forward slightly, talking to distract the older boy from his movements. "If you want my money, here, take it." Brom pulled a small pouch inside his robe and tossed onto the ground in front of the gang-member. The few copper coins inside clinked pitifully. "I have nothing else." The entire time Brom talked, he moved slowly but steadily forward, making eye contact with the knife-wielder so that he could not see the concentrate on the motion of Brom's body. The boy glanced at the pouch and gestured at one of the boys behind him. The younger boy swiftly obeyed, kneeling beside the boy and reaching for the pouch. It was then that Brom made his move.

Brom leapt forward and kicked the kneeling boy in the head. Before the knife-wielder could react, Brom had grabbed the wrist holding the knife and stepped back, locking the boys arm. With all the force he could muster, Brom slammed his open palm into the boy's locked elbow. With a soft cry of pain, the knife clattered out of the boy's hand. Brom closed his hand around the boy's elbow, grabbing it firmly, and pushed down on it just as he pulled the hand holding the boy's wrist up. The boy instinctively bent over to relieve the pressure on his arm, and from there Brom swung his knee up and slammed it right into the boy's face, dropping him to the ground.

As the kid dropped to the ground, Brom went with him, crouching down as another blade passed over his head, right where he had been a second earlier. While he was on the ground, Brom grabbed the knife the first boy had dropped. He pivoted, slashed at the other knife-wielder's legs. The boy went down, and as he fell, Brom rose, his knife sticking up. They met in the middle; the knife penetrating the boy's mid-section. The boy cried out with the pain, and continued to fall. The knife jerked out of Brom's hand, and Brom reached full height, weaponless. He turned so his back was to the wall, and faced off against his other two opponents.

One stepped forward and swung his fist at Brom's head. Brom raised his arm and blocked the blow. He stepped in toward the boy, arms still raised, and punched the boy right in the face as hard as he could. As his fist made contact, he felt cartilage give under his hand as the boy's nose broke. The kid went reeling backward, and Brom turned his attention to the last boy. This one looked uncertain; Brom could see it in his eyes. He glanced around at the other bodies around him and tried to retreat. Brom never gave him the chance. As soon as the boy looked away, Brom had leapt forward, and by the time the boy looked back, Brom was upon him. He thrust out powerfully with his right leg and hit the last gang-member squarely in the chest, sending him flying backward.

Brom looked around him at the five bodies arrayed around him, some groaning, some moving weakly, one completely still. The tension gradually leaked out of Brom's muscles, and he decided it was time to run. He bent down, scooped up his coin-pouch, and ran down the alley into the more brightly lit streets. He hurried toward his house, and once he reached it, he went straight inside, locked all the doors, and closed the shutters of all the windows. He had just made a number of enemies, and he knew he would have to lay low for a long while.

Despite the danger, Brom was still able to sneak out of the city three or four days a week in order to run, and to see his martial arts instructor on the rest of the days. The skills had served him well, and he wasn't going to abandon them now. He told no one what had happened, and late at night he struggled with his conscience, knowing that he had killed one of the boys with the knife.

Brom lived this way for several months. Instead of walking through the streets and exploring, as he usually did, Brom read. His parents had taught him how several years earlier, but it wasn't until now that he put the skill to use. Every book that entered the house for his parents to illustrate would be consumed by Brom before it left. He read all he could and lost himself in the seas of knowledge for hours and hours.

His favorite things to read were histories that involved great battles and he relished tales of dragons and their Riders. He knew those tales must be true, for he saw the proof everyday: colorful dragons flying through the sky, statues and markers throughout the city, and many other confirming accounts of the events. He enjoyed an account of Du Fyrn Skulblaka (the elven war with the dragons) so much he read it twice more before letting his parents send it back, even though it was many hundreds of pages in length.

Brom's life passed in this way for some months until the day he turned ten years old.

The night before his birthday, Brom's mother, Nelda, urged him to retire to bed early. Brom was lost in an epic battle between elves and Urgals and wasn't paying attention. Nelda repeated herself. This time the words broke through and Brom looked up. "What? No! Please, Mom, can't I—".

"I agree with your mother," Holcomb said from across the room, where he sat at a well-lit worktable covered in tiny tools, colorings, and objects needing illumination. "You have a big day tomorrow."

Brom began a litany of well-rehearsed complaints, excuses, and compromises. Before he could get too far, however, his mother interrupted. She said, "You need to be at your best for the Riders tomorrow."

Brom broke off mid-word. He looked at his mother questioningly, but his father was the one who answered instead. "Ah, yes. We forgot to tell you earlier Brom; the summons came a couple of days ago. Just like all other human children, you will go through the Dragon Rider examination on your tenth birthday. Most likely they will just speak to you for awhile before sending you on your way and life will continue as normal. That's what happened for your mother and me. However, if the Riders deem you worthy, you will join their ranks with a dragon of your own."

After hearing this, Brom went to bed without any more arguments. However, he lay in bed without sleep for two more hours, thrumming with excitement and nervousness, before he finally fell into a deep slumber.

Brom dreamt of dragons. Flying, fighting, resting, eating, and mating. Big and small, bright and dull, male and female. Partway through his dream, a blue female dragon he was watching turned and roared at him, startling him awake. He sat up in bed and looked around. The sound seemed so real. And then he realized it was real. The sound of a real roar from a real dragon could be heard echoing over the city. It could be heard clearly, but he didn't think it was loud enough for it to have woken him up. Puzzled, Brom looked through his window at the sky and the stars, drawing on knowledge he had gained from a book of constellations and their corresponding legends to determine the time. It was exactly midnight. He was ten years old.

Brom rose with the sun. His mother woke up a little later and then made him a large breakfast. Even though it was some of his favorite foods, Brom was only able to eat a little of it because he was so nervous. He paced around the house for a little while until, at the urging of his mother, he sat down at the worktable and set ink to paper and colored the drawn image. The process cleared his mind and calmed him down. He sketched and colored until it was time to go. As he stood to leave, he looked at the image. It was one of the best he had ever drawn. It was a portrait of the blue female dragon from his dream.

His parents offered to walk him to the Rider's Compound, but Brom respectfully declined their offer. He felt this was something he had to do on his own, and he knew the way to the Rider's compound well enough. He made his way cautiously out into the streets of Kuasta, keeping watch for any members of the gang he had fought. Even though it would be quicker to take side roads and back alleys, Brom stuck to the wide, well-lit main streets that crisscrossed across the city. He stayed in the middle of the road, two busy lanes on either side of him, hoping to deter the gangs. It wasn't enough.

He glanced at boy leaning against the side of one of the many buildings lining the avenue. Brom recognized him instantly. He was one of the boys who had been in the alley. The boy also seemed to recognize Brom. He eyes lit up and he ran to the nearest alleyway, ducking down it, most probably to contact the rest of his cronies. Brom quickened his pace, hurrying toward the Rider's compound. He hoped to get there before the gang could gather itself and pursue him. However, they were waiting for him half a mile from the entrance of the compound. There were seven of them this time. Some he recognized, some he did not. They started toward him, intent on murder. Brom didn't give them the chance to reach him. He quickened his pace into an all-out run, dashing toward his destination as fast as he could. The other boys pursued him. They slowly gained on him until they were less than ten feet behind.

Brom considered turning and fighting. He knew that the unexpected turn of events would allow him to eliminate at least two of the boys before they could react. Unfortunately, the other five would be especially dangerous since they knew what he was capable of. Brom also knew that thanks to his semi-daily runs outside of the city, his endurance was greater than any of theirs. If he could keep out of their reach for another minute, they would never catch him.

Brom proved to be correct. After a minute, the boys dropped back slightly, but they were still in full pursuit. As Brom neared the compound, he groaned in dismay. The street was crowded and slow-moving. He would never be able to move among the people quickly enough to avoid these boys who were skilled at moving effortlessly through crowds, snatching purses and evading owners. Brom made a split-second decision and turned right down an alley. The boys, perhaps sensing victory, drew closer. Brom turned left into a much narrower alley and ran for all he was worth to the other end. However, as he came closer to the end, he cursed his luck. A solid wall blocked off the end of the alley. Brom knew that he couldn't slow down though. He tensed and hurled himself as high as he could. His body slammed against the wall, knocking the breath out of him. However, his hands had reached the top and were holding on tight. With a burst of adrenaline, Brom pulled himself over and dropped to the other side just as the gang-members reached the wall. Brom backed up, facing the wall, gathering himself for what was about to come. He would make his stand here.

Three boys clambered over the wall and rushed at him. Before they had gone ten steps though, they faltered and stopped. They stared at Brom with horror and panic. Brom was confused. Hadn't they just been bent on killing him? And then he realized that the boys were not looking at him, but behind him. Brom heard a rustling from behind and felt a wave of hot air sweep upon him from the back. The gang boys screamed and ran back to the wall, hauling themselves over. The sounds of their retreat could be heard for several seconds more as they raced away through the alley. Brom steeled himself and slowly turned around to confront whatever being lay behind him.

He turned to behold an enormous green dragon curled up on the ground, its head raised and looking at him with intelligent green eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

**I borrowed a lot of content from Christopher Paolini for this chapter since the experience of watching a dragon hatch and becoming a Rider is probably very similar for everyone who goes through it. Also, some of teh history in the chapter was taken from Eragon, since it was already written. For those of you who waited, forgive me for taking so long. Thank you for your patience. The next chapter hopefully won't take as long.**

Brom stared in shock at the massive beast. He had seen many dragons during his life, but he had never been this close to one. For the first time, he realized just how big they were and, judging by the look of intelligence in the dragon's eyes, how smart they were. Brom waited, tensed, for the dragon to attack. When it became clear that it had no intentions of doing so, Brom spoke to it. "Er…um…hello."

A large, overwhelmingly complex consciousness touched his mind. _Greetings, __hatchling._

Brom started with surprise. "You can speak?"

_Aye, __perhaps __better __than __you __can, _the dragon said, its tone colored with amusement.

As Brom struggled to come up with an answer to such a statement that could be addressed to such a creature with such a vast presence respectfully, the dragon spoke again. _What __is __your __name, __young __one?_

"My name is Brom Holcombson. And yours?"

_My name is Eridor._

Before Brom could reply, a door opened in the side of one of the buildings and an elf stepped out. The elf wore plain white robes, but belted to his side was a green sword of great beauty and power. Brom felt cold shivers run down his spine just looking at it. The elf carried a large sack in its arms. Something shaped like an orb rested within.

The dragon swung his head back toward his body and laid it on the ground. It closed its eyes and by all appearances went to sleep. Brom looked back at the elf. The elf spoke. 'Greetings, Brom Holcombson. My name is Arva. Welcome to the Rider's Compound of Kuasta. You are here for the examination, are you not?" Brom nodded, and the Rider appeared satisfied. With a gesture and a word, a wooden table and two chairs appeared before Brom. His neck prickled with the power in the air. "Please sit, Brom," Arva said kindly.

Brom sat and the elf sat across from him. "Here, you should have this," the elf said as he loosened the drawstring of his sack and rolled a large sapphire stone out of it into his hand. He offered it to Brom.

Brom gasped. The stone was beautiful. "You wish me to take that from you? You would trust me with such a valuable object?"

Arva smiled. "You can do no harm to the egg," he said, letting it drop onto the table with a thud. Brom instinctively started forward, as if to catch the stone before he caught himself. Arva picked the stone back up and offered it to Brom once again. "And if you tried to take the egg and flee with it, you would be killed before you left the compound." It took a moment for the elf's words to make sense to Brom, but when they did, he gasped. He was not worried about the Rider's caution against attempted thievery, but the realization that this blue stone must be a dragon egg was shocking. He took the egg with two hands, gazing upon it with awe and reverence.

"Now, let's get down to business," Arva said as he leaned back and polished his palms. "Brom, do you know the circumstances of the Rider's creation?"

Brom also settled back, placing the egg carefully in his lap and his hands absent-mindedly traced designs on the smooth blue surface as he replied. "I know that the first Dragon Rider, Eragon, found his dragon at the end of Du Fyrn Skulblaka," Arva flinched at Brom's use of the elven language, "and that they traveled amongst the two races to bring peace. Afterwards, strong magic was used to bond the two races together so that there would never be another conflict like it, for another war would destroy the two races."

Arva seemed surprised by Brom's knowledge. "That's impressive, Brom Holcombson. Very few would be able to tell me as much as you have. I was prepared to explain the story to you in detail today, but that would be useless since you already have that knowledge. Is there anything else that you would like me to talk about?"

Brom looked at the egg in his hands and at the dragon curled up behind the Rider. "Can you tell me about the dragons? They've always fascinated me."

The elf considered it for a moment and then nodded. "Dragons it is." Arva settled back in his chair and intertwined his fingers.

"Dragons have no beginning unless it lies with the creation of Alagaesia itself. And if they have an end, it will be when this world perishes, for they suffer as the land does. They, the dwarves, and a few others are the true inhabitants of this land. They lived here before all others, strong and proud in their elemental glory. Their world was unchanging until the first elves sailed over the sea on their silver ships from their ancient home of Alalea. We elves were a proud race then, and strong in magic. At first we regarded dragons as mere animals. From that belief rose a deadly mistake. A brash elven youth hunted down a dragon, as he would a stag, and killed it. Outraged, the dragons ambushed and slaughtered the elf. Unfortunately, the bloodletting did not stop there. The dragons massed together and attacked the entire elven nation. Dismayed by the terrible misunderstanding, we elves tried to end the hostilities, but couldn't find a way to communicate with the dragons.

"Thus, to greatly abbreviate a complicated series of occurrences, there was a very long and very bloody war, which both sides later regretted. At the beginning the elves fought only to defend themselves, for we were reluctant to escalate the fighting, but the dragons' ferocity eventually forced us to attack for our own survival. This lasted for five years and would have continued for much longer if an elf called Eragon hadn't found a white dragon egg. No one knows why that egg was abandoned. Some say the parents were killed in an elven attack. Others believe the dragons purposely left it there. Either way, Eragon saw the value of raising a friendly dragon. He cared for it secretly and, in the custom of the ancient language, named him Bid'Daum. When Bid'Daum had grown to a good size, they traveled together among the dragons and convinced them to live in peace with the elves. Treaties were formed between the two races. To ensure that war would never break out again, they decided that it was necessary to establish the Dragon Riders.

"At first the Riders were intended merely as a means of communication between the elves and the dragons. However, as time passed, their worth was recognized and they were given ever more authority. Eventually we took the island Vroengard for our home and built a city on it-Doru Araeba, that was built with dragon proportions. The Urgals, who followed the elves across the sea, were one of the reasons the Riders became valued for their battle prowess and ability to keep the peace."

Arva, who had had his eyes closed, now opened them and looked at Brom again. "Now, I know you already knew that, but it had to be said, for it is part of the dragon story." Brom nodded in understanding and Arva closed his eyes before starting again.

"Dragons never stop growing, and since they are immortal as long as they are not killed by magic, poison, or blade, the ancient ones are bigger than any human-made structure, and only the building built by the Riders in Doru Araeba could contain them. They are many times bigger than even Eridor here. They couldn't breathe fire until they were around five or six months old. The older a dragon was, the longer it could breathe fire. Some of them could sustain it for many minutes. They could mate at about six months as well.

"Many people go through their lives believing that the dragons are just wild creatures and that we Riders use them merely as an exotic means of transportation. However, as you have already learned, they are as intelligent as you or me, perhaps more so. Also, they are creatures of magic. They are so powerful that the creation of the Riders affected the elven race as a whole, granting us the same immortality of the dragons. They cannot control their magic at will, except for fire breathing and flying, but occasionally, a moment comes upon them when they may reshape the world around them, and not even a dozen of the strongest elven spellcasters can match their skill and power."

Brom listened in rapt attention as Arva told him about the dragons. The Rider went beyond merely describing them and their abilities, he also instructed Brom in how to care for a dragon, how dragons mated, what a dragon's diet should consist of, and many other things besides. He even listed a number of famous dragons and outlined their accomplishments to illustrate some point he was trying to make about there character and their abilities. An hour came and went without acknowledgement.

Finally, after the sun had shifted through a large portion of the sky, the Rider wrapped up his summary of dragons. As he fell silent, Brom swayed slightly, overwhelmed by the amount of information he had received. Once he had recovered slightly, he said, "Thank you, Rider Arva."

Arva nodded. "Please forgive me for carrying on like that, but it is a topic that I am passionate about, as you could probably have guessed," he said, gesturing with his head toward Eridor behind him.

"Well, I did ask for it," Brom said.

"So you did. You will forget most of what you learned here today, but some things will be remembered and you will always have a superior knowledge of dragons than most other humans….Well, you may leave now. The testing is over." Arva held out his hand for the dragon egg.

Brom was startled. "What do you mean? I wasn't tested…you've been talking the whole time."

The elf smiled. "Even while I spoke you were being tested."

"Oh." Brom was still confused, but he handed the egg to the Rider without any more protest and stood to leave. Before he could take a single step however, Eridor spoke.

_Halt! The hatchling stirs within the egg!_

Brom froze, staring at the egg. The elven Rider placed his hands on either side of the egg and stared intently at it, mouthing words silently. Brom did not recognize the words, at least what he could guess from the lip movements, and deduced that it must be elven. Eridor swung his head around and stared also at the egg over Arva's shoulder. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the two looked away. The dragon lowered his head to the ground and began to hum. Arva stared at Brom. "Congratulations, Shur'tugal. The dragon within this egg has chosen you to be her companion."

Brom stared at the Rider in shock. He looked at the egg, feeling awed. "What now?" he managed to ask.

"Now you must stay here, until the egg hatches and the two of you bond. Then, you will be brought to Illirea where you will be presented to the Elders. Then, a senior Rider will train you for the next decade or so in the arts of the Dragon Riders."

Brom looked back up from the egg, focusing on the Rider. "But what about my family? Will I never see them again?"

Arva regarded Brom carefully. "You will be able to say your good-byes after the egg hatches and you are bonded. Afterwards…you will not be the same person after you have bonded with your dragon. You will be a Dragon Rider. Your family will no longer mean what it does to you now."

Brom nodded, trying to wrap his mind around the concept. Whatever would come would come, and Brom would just have to bear it. "How long until the dragon hatches?"

"Sometime tomorrow. Come, there is much to be done!" Arva stood and gestured toward the door into the Compound. "Shall we?"

Brom, his head still reeling, stood and walked toward the door, the elf close behind him.

Brom jerked with surprise as a squeak pierced the silence of the room. He looked frantically around, trying to determine its source. Another squeak resonated throughout the room. There was only one possible source for the sound: the egg. Brom stared at it where it sat in the exact center of the stone table that dominated the center of the room. He had sat here for several hours, observing the blue stone and its white veins, waiting for it to hatch. Sudden excitement filled him as he realized that this was the beginning of the process.

The egg continued to squeak and then began rocking back and forth. Brom leaped to catch it, but it did not fall. The egg continued to rock and squeak for a few moments before falling silent and still. Then, suddenly, a crack appeared on the stone. Then another and another. Brom stared, transfixed, as the top of the stone, where all the cracks met, a small piece wobbled, as if balanced on something, then rose and toppled to the floor. After another series of squeaks, a small dark head poked out of the hole, followed by a weirdly angled body. Soon the creature was all the way out of the stone and stood upon the table. Brom looked in wonder upon the baby dragon before him.

The dragon was no longer than his forearm, yet it was dignified and noble. Its scales were deep sapphire blue, the same color as the stone. But not a stone, he realized, an egg. The dragon fanned its wings; they were what had made it appear so contorted. The wings were several times larger than its body and ribbed with thin fingers of bone that extended from the wing's front edge, forming a line of widely spaced talons. The dragon's head was roughly triangular. Two diminutive white fangs curved down out of its upper jaw. They looked very sharp. Its claws were also white, like polished ivory, and slightly serrated on the inside curve. A line of small spikes ran down the creature's spine from the base of its head to the tip of its tail. A hollow where its neck and shoulders joined created a larger-than-normal gap between the spikes.

The hatchling twisted its long neck and looked around the bare room in curiosity with hard, ice-blue eyes. After surveying the whole room, the dragon's attention fixed on Brom and it tottered forward across the table-top. As it did, the baby dragon stumbled and almost fell, but Brom reached out instinctively to catch the creature just before it hit the table. As he did, a blast of icy energy surged into his hand and raced up his arm, burning in his veins like liquid fire. He fell back with a wild cry, tumbling out of his chair onto the stone floor. An iron clang filled his ears, and he heard a soundless scream of rage. Every part of his body seared with pain. He struggled to move, but was unable to. He was completely unaware of anything that happened around him as he was locked in this all-consuming battle with the pain and the shock. After what seemed like hours, warmth seeped back into his limbs, leaving them tingling. Shivering uncontrollably, he pushed himself upright. His hand was numb, his fingers paralyzed. Alarmed, he watched as the middle of his palm shimmered and formed a diffused white oval. The skin itched and burned like a spider bite. His heart pounded frantically.

"The gedwey ignasia," a calming voice said from the corner. "The ultimate symbol of the bond between a Rider and his dragon. The hatchling is yours just as surely as you are hers, forever connected until the day one or both of you die."

Startled, Brom looked up and stared at the speaker. It was a male elf. He looked much like Arva; very thin, but strong, with pointed ears and slanted eyes. However, this elf had silver hair, as opposed to Arva's black. The elf was clothed in startling white robes, and a golden sword was belted to his waist, just as beautiful and powerful as the one Arva wore. Brom knew instinctively that he was another Rider. The elf was old beyond measure, though the only sign of age was the expression of great compassion and sadness upon his face, as well as his eyes, which were deep and full of memories of centuries past.

"Who are you?" Brom croaked.

"I am Oromis, scion of House Thràndurin, Dragon Rider. And you, Rider Brom, I have chosen to be my apprentice," the elf said, each word heavy with meaning. "Tomorrow, I will escort you to Illirea."


End file.
